Page 281 of Sins of the Heart
breathless.
“I know.”
She gave a snort of strained laughter.
“What’s so funny?”
“You.” When he shot her an offended look, she hastened to smooth his ruffled feathers. “I can’t decide if
I ought to be thrilled that you think I’m back to being
able to handle things on my own, or offended that
you’re done playing the gentleman.”
She watched in the mirror as his gaze dropped once
more to the naked expanse of her back, dipping to the
barely covered swell of her buttocks, lingering there.
“Playingthe gentleman,” he mused. Then his gaze
snapped up and met hers in the mirror once more. “You
need help getting to the shower?”
“You hoping I’ll say yes?” She turned her head to
look at him over her shoulder.
One side of his mouth curved. “I’m just hoping
you’ll shower—”
“Thanks.” Nice. That had put her in her place. She
imagined she smelled like a sewer.
Reaching back, she hauled the sheet higher, then
shuffled forward, feeling like all kinds of a fool.
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She was halfway to the bathroom door before he
said, “You didn’t let me finish.”
Again, she glanced at him over her shoulder, acutely
aware that he’d seen her naked, that he’d stuck around
through the worst of times. Bad-ass soul reaper playing
Florence Nightingale. He’d tended to her most primitive, basic needs, fed her his blood and saved her life.
